Eyes Wide Shut
by Elilo
Summary: When Ginevra Weasley ingests a poisonous substance and ends up in St. Mungo's in need of urgent medical attention, her DNA doesn't match that of her parents. Ginny needs a blood transfusion from her next of kin to survive, but life as she knows it dies in that hospital bed. Ginny Weasley/Draco Malfoy.
1. Chapter 1

Eyes Wide Shut

Disclaimer: The characters of this story stem not from my imagination, but from that of the brilliant mind of J.K. Rowling and I take no credit for them.

Chapter One

Ginevra Weasley surveyed the eclectic collection of artifacts scattered around the room. The charming little store had been unusually busy that morning, and this was her first chance to take a step back from the customers and breathe. When she'd gotten the summer job at Archer's Antiquities she'd been a bit dubious about the quality of her work experience there, but as it turned out, she found it oddly comforting helping customers discover unique baubles and exchanging pleasantries. It was a safe environment. Besides, it was something to do to pass the time until she returned to Hogwarts for her sixth year, and in a few weeks she'd be able to afford a new set of dress robes.

Dumbledore had declared at the end of last year that it was the end of an era, and they must all work together to put their community back together. Voldemort had been killed at the Ministry for Magic just a few weeks ago, he hadn't managed to escape before the Aurors showed up, and as they joined Dumbledore's efforts, he was overpowered. The wizarding community was reeling with the shock, having found out about his return and his demise simultaneously. The tension was palpable – Voldemort's sympathisers had no idea what to do with themselves, pureblood elitists were looked upon with suspicion, and families had no idea who to trust or what to believe in. Dumbledore believed the younger generations were the logical starting point towards the rebuilding of the wizarding community, and he intended to make sure it happened.

_"Starting next term, you will all be in for quite a shock. House unity is admirable, but school unity is a necessity. Keep your minds open – you may learn something yet._" He'd mused.

The doorbell chimed as the last customer left the shop, in a hurry to escape the confines of Diagon Alley before the lunchtime rush. Ginny didn't mind, it gave her a moment to straighten out the store in peace. The antiquities were displayed around the shop to their best advantage, but became increasingly displaced throughout the day as customers examined them. If she didn't make a quick tour of the damage every few hours, she'd severely regret it come closing time.

Her boss, Mr. Archer, was a kindly old man who loved the store but didn't have the physical capacity to keep up with the rush of customers. He usually spent his mornings filing paperwork in the back office. _I'll have to ask him if I can have Monday off for Mum's birthday_, she thought. _Maybe she'd like one of these_– the oriental jewelry box she was holding slipped through her fingers, and she watched in a daze as it crashed onto the floor and a cloud of thick, dark smoke ascended from the shards and billowed towards her. Shocked out of her reverie she inhaled sharply, only to be brought to her knees in fits of coughing, fire in her lungs. Desperately she clawed her wand out of her pocket and sent a flurry of red sparks in the direction of the back office, frantically wishing for Mr. Archer to look up from his stack of paperwork. '_I hope that wasn't terribly expensive'_was her last thought before the lights dimmed around her eyes and everything went black.

* * *

An extremely frazzled-looking old man barged into St. Mungo's emergency ward with an unconscious redhead levitating behind him. He was gasping for breath, and was covered in what appeared to be smudges of soot.

"There's been an accident, we need help! It's an emergency!" The anxious man gesticulated frantically at his charge, and doctors rushed to his side with a gurney.

"What's the emergency sir? How did the lady hurt herself?"

"How long has she been unconscious for?"

"What is your relation to this young woman?"

"Sir, please calm down!"

* * *

People staring down at her surrounded Ginny, but they were all blurry. As her vision cleared and their anxious and horrified expressions came into view she came to the conclusion that she was dead. She was dead, and her ghost just hadn't floated out of her body yet – that must be why there was so much grief surrounding her.

"Ginevra Weasley?" A concerned-looking doctor with a friendly face asked. "If you can understand me, blink twice."

She blinked. That was odd, usually ghosts were treated with at least a modicum of respect – insulting her intellect and abstaining from addressing the elephant in the room – her actual death – was deemed bad manners by anyone's account.

"How'd I die?" She rasped. Her body felt as heavy as granite, and she was hot, so very hot.

"You're not dead Miss Weasley. But I'm afraid you're in grave danger, it is imperative that we find your next of kin immediately. The substance you've inhaled is burning the magic from your blood, and if we don't get a transfusion of the closest matching DNA as possible, you will not be able to survive it." He smiled sadly, then shot a distraught look across the bed at Mr. Archer, who was pacing furiously at her side, his mind elsewhere.

Ginny had no energy for this. Why was he explaining all this to her? Her parents would be along shortly and they could deal with it. "Parents." She mumbled.

The doctor looked at her with pained eyes, and took her hand gently. "We compared your DNA with that of your father and your brother Ron, they were the only ones we had blood information on. Not only does your DNA not match either of theirs, but you also flagged a red alert in our database. Your DNA matches that of an infant who went missing from the hospital 16 years ago. I'm so sorry Ginevra, but Molly and Arthur Weasley are not your legitimate parents, and they can't save you now."

Ginny's eyes bulged incredulously. She passed out. Mr. Archer stopped pacing and glared at the doctor.

* * *

A perimeter was set up around Ginevra Weasley's ward, the ministry had issued a security detail to the hospital until they got to the bottom of this unprecedented case. An attempt was made to hush it up, but somebody would eventually leak the scandalizing information and at that point all hell would break loose. It was imperative that Arthur and Molly Weasley were apprehended for questioning before then.

The hospital had contacted them after Ginny had been examined, and they came stumbling through the fireplace 30 minutes later.

"MY BABY! Where is Ginny – Hello sir, Ginevra Weasley, which room is she in?! Is she hurt?!" Molly Weasley made a beeline for the emergency ward, expecting the doctor she had addressed to keep up. Arthur followed anxiously behind her, wringing his hands.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Step this way please." Kingsley Shacklebolt and a fellow Auror blocked their path, gesturing in the direction of a side door. A third moved up behind them and waited cautiously, on the alert.

"Kingsley, you don't understand. Our daughter's been hurt, we need to see her. I'm sure whatever questions you have can wait until another time. Get out of our way." Molly glared at them, planting her hands on her hips defiantly. She had no idea what nonsense procedures they had established at St. Mungo's since her last visit, but she wasn't having any of it.

"This is a matter of Ginevra's well-being. We assure you Molly, we are doing everything we can to protect her. If you would please step into this room for questioning, we can get the information we need to help her." Kingsley looked at them pointedly. Molly sighed and followed him into the room. Realization slowly dawned on Arthur's face, and he gasped and backed away jerkily. Firm hands closed around his arms and escorted him forwards, forcing him into the room with Molly.

"Now, Molly, Arthur. Can you please explain to me why Ginny's blood sample matches that of Leonora Zabini's 16-years-missing infant?" Shacklebolt crossed his arms, muscles flexing threateningly.

(AN: Let me know what you think! =] )


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Anything recognizable in the context of Harry Potter in terms of characters, settings and terminology does not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 2

Molly's eyes widened and she gripped the arms of her chair fiercely. "I-I don't know what you mean." She glanced nervously at her husband, who had gone rigid at her side.

The two Aurors guarding the door shifted slightly, sinking into the background. Many years of experience had taught them that a confession was more likely to occur if the suspects felt a personal connection with one of them, and Kingsley might just be able to establish that.

Shacklebolt sighed. "Come now, Molly. This is an extremely serious situation; I cannot stress enough how important it is that you cooperate. We have more than enough information to put you away for a very long time. I don't want to do this the hard way – all I'm asking for is an explanation."

"You can't just expect us to tear our family apart, Kingsley. You're our _friend_; we've worked together in The Order for years. I beg you, please drop this." Arthur pleaded, his voice hoarse. As his eyes darted back and forth between Shacklebolt and his colleagues, calculating the odds, he ran a hand through his hair while casually placing the other one in his pocket, feeling for his wand. He'd worked in the Ministry for years; he knew how this situation was going to play out – unless he prevented it.

Suddenly Arthur tensed, and before he knew it he was on the floor in a full body-bind curse, both the Weasley's wands safely in the possession of the Aurors. Molly burst into tears, frightened.

"Damnit Arthur!" Shacklebolt's hand slammed into the wall forcefully. "We're talking about the kidnapping of a child, here! You stole Ginevra from this hospital! We've checked the records; you had an appointment here the same day she disappeared. What were you thinking!? How could you possibly do this? Do you have any idea what this will mean for your family?"

Molly sank together weakly, having stifled her tears during his outburst. "You don't understand." She whispered, shaking her head. "The doctor said my womb was too damaged from childbirth to carry another one to term. We'd never be able to have a daughter. What choice did we have?" She paused, her eyes beseeching. "_Please._ Just let us see our _daughter_."

Shacklebolt had to restrain himself from hurting the couple he'd once considered his close personal friends. He exhaled slowly, his eyes cold.

"You don't have a daughter."

* * *

Pansy Parkinson was absolutely furious, and Blaise couldn't for the life of him figure out why. She'd been in a delightfully playful mood during their last date, leaving him at the end of the night with a thoroughly seductive kiss and a mischievous wink. He'd sent her flowers the following morning, wished her mother a happy birthday last Sunday and avoided the clumsy and vulgar advances of one Millicent Bullstrode since she'd developed feelings for him last month to the best of his abilities. And yet, here his beloved girlfriend stood in front of him, eyes flashing, and she did not look pleased with his efforts.

"Hey Pans! I didn't know you'd be in Diagon Alley today as well, I would've offered to go with you." He said cautiously as he walked, subtly attempting to relocate their impending altercation to a convenient side street. Friendliness wasn't his usual approach, but it seemed prudent not to give her any more material to work with.

"You would've offered? _You_ would've _offered_, would you?" She sneered, following him into the alley. "Well maybe _I _would've _accepted_, considering I apparently have a free schedule. But hey, why wouldn't I? It's only our one-year anniversary, not like I should expect to have any sort of claim on your precious time today."

_Bloody hell._

"I..uh.." He trailed off.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. I'll leave you to it then. It seems like you've got very important things to do today." She drawled, staring pointedly at his _Flourish & Blotts_ shopping bag.

"Pansy, look, I-"

"Save it. I just came here to find out what you could possibly think was more important than me, but it seems like I didn't even cross your mind at all. It's good to know, for future reference." With a final look of disdain, she promptly Disapparated.

_Bloody fucking hell._

* * *

The birds were chirping and the sun was shining, but Leonora Zabini was feeling rather unfortunate. Her landscaper had completely misinterpreted the vision she'd had for the patio, and she was surrounded by meticulously preened bushes and animated plastic flamingos. The invitations had been sent for their annual summer party next weekend, and she did seriously not have time to fit reversing this crisis into her calendar before then. She supposed that's what a decorator was for.

Having spent the majority of the day going over the guest list with Narcissa Malfoy, putting together the cocktail menu and then defending her property in court (although her family had never been involved in any Death Eater activities, their extended social circle was enough to implicate them), her energy levels were considerably depleted. Nonetheless, she managed to send an owl to her secretary to get her in touch with a decent decorator first thing in the morning.

She'd been raised to pedantically plan out every aspect of her family's image, down to the last detail. That didn't mean she didn't think it was a complete waste of time, but they had appearances to keep up. Although now that Voldemort was dead and she didn't have to maintain the airs of an elitist pureblood family so as not to attract his unwanted attention, she wasn't really sure what she was trying to achieve. Blaise was the only constant in her life that made sense all the time. Where was he, anyway? She sighed.

"Mrs. Zabini! Please, there's someone blocking the Floo Network insisting that you come to St. Mungo's Hospital right away! I've tried to express to him that you're very busy but he insists! I think there's something wrong with him." Her maid Charlotte exclaimed, whispering the last bit emphatically.

Leonora raised a questioning eyebrow, surveyed the patio with disgust one last time, and resigned herself to another confrontation with the authorities. She had no idea what made them think this was the path to righteousness, but attempting to have her committed to St. Mungo's was a new low for the Wizengamot. They must really want her property. "Oh alright then, show me which fireplace he's at."

She arrived at St. Mungo's immediately, having no patience for the tightly wound doctor and his 'doctor-patient-confidentiality'. If there was someone injured at the hospital that she knew, she'd be damned if she was going to sit through an hour-long debriefing session before getting some answers. Strangely though, when she arrived the entire building was eerily quiet. Doctors with clipboards were standing around anxiously, not making eye contact, and Aurors lined the halls.

"Mrs. Zabini?" A tired, apprehensive-looking doctor approached her at a rapid pace. "I can't tell you how good it is to see you. There's been a terrible confusion here at the hospital today, and I'm afraid you're in for quite a shock. Hopefully you'll be able to see this as a blessing in disguise. Please follow me."

They went to a conference room down the hall, and Leonora's thoughts churned chaotically in her head. She simply couldn't come to a rational conclusion as to what the doctor was going to tell her. She had bittersweet memories of this place. She'd received the first thing worth living for in one of these birthing rooms, but she'd lost the second. It was best not to dwell on the memories.

The doctor, having introduced himself as Dr. Michaels, sat heavily in the chair opposite hers. She had a sneaking suspicion he'd rather be anywhere else right then. "Leonora, may I call you that? We've had an unprecedented occurrence at the hospital today. Well, we had an unprecedented occurrence the last time you were admitted here as well, didn't we? I suppose you have no patience for soft words from us anymore." He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know if you're familiar with Ginevra Weasley. She was admitted earlier today for having ingested a life-threatening toxin. We needed a blood transfusion from her closest DNA match to counter the poison, and when we ran her blood sample through our database it threw our hospital into an immediate lockdown procedure, as her DNA did not in any way match that of the couple listed as her legitimate parents."

Leonora's heart was beating rapidly. A tiny fire ignited in deep in her heart, in a place she had thought long dead. The flare of hope was tentative, and temporary. It was more than she dared ever hope for, and going down that path again would surely kill her. She realized she'd shut her eyes during her inner turmoil, and quickly composed herself. Zabini's did not have inner turmoil.

"You're probably wondering what this has to do with you. I don't know any other way to tell you this except come straight out and say it. Ginevra Weasley's DNA sample was an identical match to that of Claire Antoinette Moira Zabini. We've found your missing daughter, Leonora, and she's in critical condition."

Her breath hitched in her throat, and the world was spinning faster than she could keep up with. Her daughter being stolen from the hospital had haunted her for the subsequent 16 years of her life, everywhere she turned she couldn't help wondering about the little girl crossing the street to fetch a ball, or the one holding her mother's hand and dragging her towards an ice cream store. Her affection towards Blaise never suffered for it, she loved him fiercely, but the loss of a child opened up a deep, black hole in her soul that she'd never been able to escape from. And now her daughter, who she'd likely passed in Diagon Alley without a second glance, who'd been held in someone else's arms, taken her first steps toward someone other than her, was _here_ in this hospital. And she was dying.

"Fix it." She whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Save her. What can I do? Take my blood, my DNA will match, take it now, _save her_. Please!"

Dr. Michaels watched her intensely, a strange look on his face. "Right away. Come with me."

* * *

(A/N: Let me know if it it lived up to your expectations so far! I know the chapters are starting out a bit short, but I wanted to get a feel for it first and make sure my approach makes sense. =] )

Marinka: That's the plan, but then again – I prefer shock value over the safe, predictable stuff.

Nancy: Thanks for the honest review, constructive criticism is always always worth a slight ego deflation. ; )


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See last chapter. Not much has changed.

Eyes Wide Shut – Chapter 3

Ginny was subconsciously aware that something very wrong was happening to her body. Unable to move or perceive any outside stimuli, she could only lie there, observing her body breaking down with a detached sort of interest. The fire in her veins were clouded by whatever drugs were running through her system, for which she was grateful. Breathing was difficult; she had an acute craving for air, yet no matter how many times she filled her lungs it almost made no difference. It was as if her heart was working at maximum capacity and it wasn't enough to filter the air from her blood. Her head was cloudy and white spots were appearing underneath her eyelids, floating around lazily. She tried not to focus on any one of them, in case this was the famous 'white light at the end of the tunnel' everyone was talking about.

The searing pain in her veins intensified – the drugs were wearing off. She could feel the all-consuming fire furiously, gleefully, maniacally spreading throughout her body on its destructive path, propelled further with each pulse of her heart – the traitor. Slowly however, the inferno seemed to lose some of its heat, sputtering and gasping, struggling to continue its path. After what seemed like an eternity, the fire reluctantly withdrew its claws from her heart and was extinguished, leaving her shivering in the dark, exhausted.

* * *

Waking up in her hospital bed, it took Ginny a few minutes to place her surroundings. The room looked familiar, with the blue curtains surrounding her, and the view out the window overlooking what she knew to be the hospital garden. From this angle she gathered she was on the second floor, the same room she'd woken up in earlier when – _when the doctor said Mom and Dad aren't my real parents. _She inhaled sharply, the memory flooding back to her. Why would he say that? It must have been some mistake. A scare tactic they used to make her faint – it was all part of her treatment plan, just a ruse!

But what if it wasn't? If they had wanted to knock her out they could have given her medication to that effect, there wasn't any need to shock her into fainting. Desperation set in as each argument she summoned in defense of this terrifying information being a lie was discarded as illogical and implausible. She wasn't a straight A student for nothing. But having examined every aspect of the situation and being unable to deviate from the conclusion that the doctor was telling the truth, she was struck dumb. A numbing stupor overtook her mind, and she resolved to stare at the ceiling for a few hours. The ceiling was safe, nothing shocking ever happened up there.

"Miss Weasley? Oh good, you're awake! I'll just run along and get the doctor for you then, be back in a jiffy!" An overly cheerful nurse enthused, having stuck her head in the door to check up on her patient. She closed the door again just as quickly, wanting to locate Dr. Michaels as quickly as possible.

_No._ If the doctor came, he would extinguish that last little sliver of hope in her heart that this was all a lie; he would take her childhood away from her, not to mention her family.

Ginny sat up frantically, head spinning, rushing to untangle her feet from the hospital sheets and unhook herself from the IV machine. She had to get out of here before he came back. Panic clutched at her heart, snared her throat together and was threatening to overpower her. She swung her feet over the edge of her bed and jumped off it. As she landed on her feet her legs gave way under her, and she collapsed in a heap on the floor. The impact forced all the air out of her lungs and she woke from her stupor gasping and sobbing, curled up in a ball on the floor. _I'm not their child._

Nurses rushed into the room, having heard the commotion, and managed to lift her up on the bed again, murmuring soothing words and covering her with the blanket. The IV was reattached and a calming draught was brought forth, allowing her to fall into a dreamless sleep and escape reality for a little while yet.

* * *

"Alright Mrs. Zabini, you can go on in now. I've told her that she has a visitor, but I haven't mentioned who it is. You'll have to tell her yourself about your history, we think it's best if it comes from you." Dr. Michaels signaled in the direction of Ginevra's hospital room, indicating that she should go by herself.

"Thank you. May I ask first how she is coping with everything?" Leonora inquired calmly, attempting to disguise her rapidly beating heart.

The doctor sighed, smiling grimly. "Yes, well, as well as can be expected really. We had an episode this morning when she woke up, but after having slept some more, and with the guidance of one of our psychologists whom she's spent the afternoon talking to, she seems to have gotten over the initial shock."

Leonora nodded thoughtfully and reached for the handle. She had no idea what the best way was to approach this, but it all started with walking through that door. The rest would come naturally, she hoped.

"Ginevra?" she asked tentatively. The girl was in bed, staring blankly out the window but not really seeing anything. She had reddish brown hair and a soft round face, which was decidedly pale at the moment. Leonora remembered having seen her before, but as she hadn't paid any particular attention to her until now, the exact timing eluded her.

"My name is Leonora Zabini. May I sit down?" Cautiously she reached for a stool and brought it over to the bed. The girl still wasn't looking at her, so she sat down anyway. Silence filled the atmosphere, but she had no idea if it was as palpable to the patient as it was to her. Leonora couldn't remember feeling this nervous in a long time. Nervousness never led to anything positive, so she simply waited.

"Why are you here?" a hoarse voice asked softly. Snapping out of her reverie, she made eye contact with its owner. Ginevra was looking at her now, with tired eyes filled with grief. Her heart ached. She couldn't believe the pain this little girl had to go through, and almost felt guilty for being a part of the cause. But the feeling quickly turned into a deep-seated hatred for her "parents", the people whose very unfathomable actions were the cause of the heartbreaking conversation she was about to have with her daughter.

"Well, to start off with I just wanted to see how you were feeling. We have many things to talk about, you and I, even though you don't know it. But it might be best for it to wait until another time. You've already been through so much today."

The sincerity in her voice had a marked effect on Ginny, whose hostility was being replaced by surprise and caution before her very eyes. From the bewildered look on her face, she could tell the girl had no idea what the two of them could possibly have in common. But then she took a deep breath, and composed herself – like a Zabini would.

"Please. No more secrets. Just tell me what you came to say."

Leonora smiled reassuringly. "Okay. Well, I'm going to tell you a little story then."

She sat for a moment, remembering. Just as Ginny was beginning to feel awkward, she began. " I've always wanted to have two children – one boy and one girl. The circumstances of my marriage never really worked in my favor, but in that aspect I was lucky. I had the most handsome baby boy, who brings me joy every day, who I could not be prouder of. Not long after I was pregnant again, with a girl this time. She was absolutely beautiful when they handed her to me in the hospital bed, all wrinkly and everything. She had little tufts of hair already and refused to open her eyes for anything, but she clutched at me like her life depended on it. Clara Antoinette Moira Zabini, I named her.

When you give birth sometimes everything goes smoothly and you can be on your way within hours, and sometimes there are complications. I was kept overnight for observation, because the doctors were unsure of whether or not I had sustained any damage in the process. The baby was placed in a ward with the other infants, and no matter how I complained that I could recover just fine with her right next to me, I was assured that I needed 24 hours of absolute rest. I was so grumpy, but I knew they were right. I needed to be healthy to take care of my children.

The following day turned out to be the most terrifying one of my life. It started pleasantly enough; I woke up feeling fine, excited about the prospect of getting to take my beautiful girl home. When I asked for her the nurses smiled at me and sent a message for her to be brought over, finding my eagerness to see her endearing. How some mothers can be uninterested in their children I'll never know.

She never came. My child had been stolen right out of her crib, a Confundus charm placed on the nurse overseeing the nursery. No one had seen anything. You can imagine my despair, perhaps, many people can. But imagination is different from living with it every day, living in the shadow of the life you were supposed to have. One girl and one boy. I had no idea if Clara was even still alive, or if I would ever see her again.

Until yesterday, when I was summoned here because St. Mungo's had apprehended a couple who had stolen a child that didn't belong to them, a child generally known as Ginevra Weasley, but according to her blood sample is actually named Clara Antoinette Moira Zabini." She took a deep breath, and smiled tentatively, trembling, at the wide-eyed girl silently crying in front of her.

"So you see, you and me have a lot to talk about."

* * *

Ginny wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sat quietly for a moment. It was a lot to take in. This strange, aristocratic woman who had walked into her life seemed sincere enough, but there was only one glitch. Besides, at this point, skepticism was more likely to be her middle name than Moira.

"Zabini? I hate to point out the tiny little detail that Blaise and me have nowhere near the same skin color."

Leonora colored slightly and stared pointedly at the floor. "That may have something to do with the two of you having nowhere near the same father."

"Oh." So it was true. Ginny had never felt this overwhelmed in her entire life. She had been afraid facing Death Eaters and the like, but fear takes a different kind of courage to face than inner turmoil. She'd always had a solid foundation in her family, and now that it was cracking under her she didn't know what to do.

"Where are my parents? I mean, I'm sorry. Where are the Weasley's?" she asked anxiously.

"They've been apprehended for the kidnapping of a child and the assault of the nurse I mentioned. I know you love them, how could you not? They've been your entire life. But you have to understand that what they did was a terrible, unspeakable crime, and there is going to be a trial, and I don't think their sentence will be very lenient." Ginny could tell Leonora was trying very hard to sympathize for her sake, but she couldn't imagine how difficult it must be to attempt to see things from the perspective of the people who had stolen her child from her.

She had no idea how she felt about the situation she was finding herself in. Did she hate her parents? She couldn't. But she couldn't hate this woman either, it wasn't her fault that all this had happened. "Thanks." She mumbled.

"I...I wanted to make you an offer." Leonora hesitated, the continued in a reassuring voice. "There's still months of summer left, and as far as I've understood from the doctor, you're going to be very weak for the next long time. After-effects of the potion you inhaled. You'll be tired a lot, and need to avoid physically strenuous activities. I was thinking - if you want, that is – you could come and live with us over the summer? You would have your own room, and we have servants that could bring you things and help you, and of course I'd be there to take care of you." She smiled anxiously at her daughter, awaiting the verdict.

"This...is all a lot to take in. I thank you for the offer, Mrs. Zabini, really, I do. But would you let me think about it for a while? I still haven't talked to any of my brothers, and even if they're not technically related to me, they're still my family." Ginny answered apologetically. "Will you come back tomorrow? I'll have an answer then."

She could tell Leonora was disappointed, and she'd flinched when she called her 'Mrs. Zabini', but she put on a brave face and sent her a smile, which was tentatively returned. "Of course. I'll come back tomorrow. Thank you for hearing me out, and you're right that your brothers are still your family. I've been given to understand that they'll be allowed to see you later. I'll let you get some rest." The strange woman, who was also her mother, got up and walked gracefully out of the room, sending her a little wave before closing the door.

* * *

"Hi Ginny." Harry came into the room slowly, with a tentative smile on his face. He was followed by Hermione and Ron, the latter of which almost bowled Hermione over to get to Ginevra's bedside. She glared at him briefly in annoyance, but turned quickly to face Ginny and flashed her a reassuring smile.

"How are you feeling?"

Ginny studied all their faces closely, overwhelmed by their sudden presence. Harry and Hermione looked equally anxious and worried, gazing down at her with concern. Hermione was patting her leg sympathetically. When Ginny caught Ron's eyes however, the intensity in them almost scared her. _His life is as much in shambles as mine I suppose, of course he's upset, _she thought.

"Hi guys. I don't know. The doctor says I've recovered well enough for my body to heal on it's own, which is fine I guess. I just don't really understand what's going on in my life right now. I don't understand how all this happened."

Harry grimaced sympathetically. "Yeah Gin, we understand. We're just happy you survived and that you're okay, and as for everything else-"

"Why did you have to be such a clumsy idiot anyway?! Who drops an ancient artifact! How stupid could you be Ginny? And now you're just lying there whining about how confusing your life is?" Ron cut him off, fuming.

"I-I…what?" she stammered.

"You heard me. This entire nightmare is all your fault, Mom and Dad are in jail – they might even be sent to Azkaban after the trial. Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted?" He sneered. "You're a traitor, and you're no part of this family. I just came here to tell you that."

As Ron stormed out, Harry and Hermione were left standing by Ginny's bedside, completely blindsided and bewildered. Ginny was staring at the ceiling again. _This isn't happening to me. This isn't happening to me. _Her hands were convulsively gripping the bed sheets, as if searching for material proof that what had just occurred was real. The bed sheets felt real enough.

"Ginny, he's just in shock. It's the grief talking; please don't believe anything he said. Ron's just being silly." Hermione frantically tried to convince her, pleading her to understand.

"Hermione's right, Ron doesn't mean any of that stuff, he'll get over it. We'll talk to him – you'll see." Harry seemed more confident in the hypothesis than Hermione, but nevertheless they were united in their efforts to calm her down. They attempted for many minutes to reassure her of Ron's good intentions, but Ginny didn't say a word throughout the conversation.

"Please just go."

* * *

(A/N: Hey everyone, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Need to get all the somber and serious stuff out of the way, the next chapter will have a more positive tone, promise. Let me know what you think! And thank you all so much for the enthusiasm, it's the best thing ever. =] )


	4. Chapter 4

(A/N: So extremely sorry for the ridiculously late update. Life took over, I have no excuse. As an apology I've made this chapter quite a bit longer than the previous one, although they always look significantly longer in Microsoft Word than they do once they're uploaded. Also, I put my author's note at the top of the page so I could tell you not to hate me before you read the chapter, thus distracting you from the possibility of hating me as you read the story.)

Disclaimer: Instead of making up my own characters, I'm playing around with J.K. Rowling's.

* * *

Eyes Wide Shut – Chapter 4

Ginny awoke in an expansive, plush bed, and felt decidedly uncomfortable and clammy, probably due to all the blankets smothering her. They were of nicer quality than any she had ever had at the Burrow, made of fine down that made a subtle crinkling noise when she crumpled the fabric. The off-white, creamy bedspread was the final touch, having been firmly tucked in around her rather than pulled off. Her breathing became slightly labored as her mind focused on the heaviness of the blankets weighing her down, but she felt too weak to do anything about it for now.

The room she found herself in was meticulously decorated with the same soft beige colors and subtle lace patterns, a decidedly soothing environment. There was a small sitting area consisting of two plump high-backed armchairs, with a delicate little mahogany tea table nestled in between them. They were situated directly next to an expansive windowpane bedecked with heavy off-white curtains, from which sunlight was streaming lazily into the room. Ginny was too far sunken into her bed to inspect the view outside, so she continued her examination of the chamber with mildly impressed detachment.

There were two doors, one of which she presumed led out into the hallway judging by its size, and the other might have led to either a closet or a bathroom – she would find out later. A slim, towering mahogany bookcase was situated next to the main door, with two shelves lined with expensive-looking books. The other shelves were empty. Bursts of color were sporadically stationed around the room in the form of fresh flowers, and a few spindling vine plants, winding their way upward.

There was no confusion as to where she was, and while she couldn't quite remember the specifics of how she'd gotten there, she recalled the events that had led up to her stay at the Zabini manor.

* * *

Ron's outburst had triggered what her therapist at the hospital sympathetically had referred to as an "emotional setback", and then proceeded fervently to examine from all angles. Ginny had cooperated to the best of her abilities, more out of hope that the therapist would somehow come to the conclusion that it was all a misunderstanding, than the desire to advance her emotional health. The heavy, nauseating feeling in the pit of her stomach lethargically expanded throughout the next 24 hours, as none of her other family showed up to visit her. Her parents had the excuse of being held in custody, but she wasn't sure what was keeping the rest of her brothers. Especially the absence of Fred and George hurt; she had always been their favorite.

Without any evidence to suggest the contrary, she had reluctantly come to the painful conclusion that Ron had spoken on behalf of the entire family. Mr. Archer had been to visit her again, but at that point a swollen lump had formed in her throat that rendered her mute and teary-eyed. He'd patted her on the head awkwardly and sat in silence, not knowing what to say.

The reality that if her brothers all hated her she probably wasn't welcome back home slowly sunk in. She wasn't even sure about how she would have felt going back; knowing her parents had quite literally kidnapped her at birth was sure to change their family dynamics in some way. Even so, having her entire support system pulled out from under her felt surprisingly akin to having the breath knocked out of her lungs. She wasn't sure when she'd be able to breathe properly again, because she couldn't think of a reason why she should try.

Which is when Leonora had appeared next to her hospital bed, trying valiantly to suppress the quiet hopefulness illuminating her face. She had brought a stuffed animal, a tiny, somewhat ratty-looking purple monkey with floppy arms. Ginny had stared mutely at it for a while, taking in the fuzzy, patchy appearance of something that was obviously much loved and very old. The bottom left foot had the word 'Clara' embroidered onto it in silver thread.

Leonora gently placed the animal on the pillow next to Ginevra's head, and spoke hesitantly. "Have you thought about whether you would like to come stay with us?"

Ginny smiled weakly. She wasn't anywhere near ready for it, but she sensed that she did have a family – if she wanted one. "Yes. I'd like that."

* * *

Waking up in these luxurious surroundings that she'd probably been transferred to during her sleep, Ginny resolved to give her heart a break. The nightmare she'd been thrown into was too staggering for her to fully comprehend yet, and if she kept trying to predict all the different ways her life would spiral out of control she'd just drive herself further into the ground. No, she'd been given an opportunity to get away from everything – the Weasleys, the hospital, the press. She had the rest of the summer to get herself back together before school started and she would have to face the world, and she had every intention of doing so.

Throwing back the covers with a sudden burst of energy, Ginny sat up and slid her feet out of bed. All right, so she felt a little dizzy, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. She made her way unsteadily over to the small door across the room, and turned the handle. A somewhat narrow hallway greeted her, lined on either side with hangers of clothing. The closet was endowed with marble flooring, and connected to a pristine bathroom. Ginny's eyes widened as she took in the expansive marble bathtub, the shower cubicle lined with bottles and soaps, and what appeared to be an actual powder area in front of a large mirror. She'd thought those things were extinct. Without further ado, she proceeded to fill the tub with water, and fetched a collection of bottles from the shower and poured them into the bathtub at random. Not too shabby.

* * *

Blaise once again found himself caught in an unexpected situation in Diagon Alley, although this time his reason for being there was fully keyed towards catering to his pissed off girlfriend.

The whirlwind of emotions he'd gone through in the past two days was unlike any he'd come across before, mainly because he'd never seen his mother so distraught before. Then again, he was sure she had been back when Clara had been taken from them, but she'd hidden it well for his sake. He supposed she thought he was old enough to handle witnessing her breakdowns now. Which he was, except that watching the strong, proud woman who'd raised him being reduced to tears over the mere thought that Ginevra would refuse contact with them thoroughly freaked him out. He had no idea what to feel about her sudden emergence into his life, he had been a little over a year old when she'd gone missing. Truth be told, he didn't remember her, and he didn't know how he was supposed to fit her into his life.

Blaise had never really given the youngest Weasley much thought before, and thank Merlin for that. The range of things boys his age thought about when it came to girls was decidedly limited, after all. The idea of having harbored wicked fantasies about a girl who would later turn out to be his sister, (as quite a handful of boys in Hogwarts undoubtedly had), was enough to set his stomach churning.

He hadn't to his recollection had many close friends that were girls either. Pansy had been the exception, and that didn't exactly turn out platonic. Was it just coincidence, or did he really not know how to be friends with girls? How the hell was he supposed to adapt to abruptly finding himself stuck with a younger sister then? There weren't too many things that worried Blaise Zabini, as a matter of principle. But this - there was a legitimate possibility that he might horribly fuck this up.

Consequently, he was doing the logical thing and gallivanting off to Diagon Alley in pursuit of a trinket that would appease Pansy. He needed to know where he stood with at least one of the girls in his life.

After a successful trip to Pansy's favorite jewelry store, Blaise was too caught up in devising the most effective plan to win himself back in her good graces to notice the crowd of reporters steadily encroaching on him.

"Blaise Zabini? Zabini, is that you?" An overeager reporter practically threw himself in Blaise's path, giving the swarm of paparazzi a chance to crowd around him.

His top lip curled in irritation. As a general rule he could count on one hand the number of people he allowed to share his breathing space. He wasn't going to tolerate this for long.

"May I help you?" He sneered.

"How is Ginevra Weasley? How do you feel about having a new little sister? What was your previous relationship with her?" The reporter in his path demanded, his quill already scribbling furiously away at his parchment.

Blaise froze, taken aback. Of course he should have expected something like this, but he'd been too preoccupied with his family issues to realize everyone else was occupied with them as well.

"Can we get your statement regarding this recent turn of events?" Called someone.

"How is your mother taking it?"

"Can you confirm Ginevra's whereabouts, sir?" A reporter had taken advantage of his momentary petrification to sidle up to him.

"Have the recent events affected Ginevra's relationship with the Weasley boys?"

"Will she continue to go by Ginevra or does she prefer Clara?" The initial reporter squeaked the last bit and shrank back, noticing the murderous expression that was emerging on Blaise's face. So his family was a trending topic, were they? He didn't take kindly to this perpetual ambush, and he certainly didn't care for their boldness in asking these personal questions. He cursed inwardly. The wizarding press was infamous for their invasive journalism; even the notorious Rita Skeeter wasn't of the worst variety. Eventually, they'd extend their curious claws to his home address. Getting home and securing the premises before this idea occurred to them was his top priority, which was rather unfortunate as Pansy wasn't particularly patient when it came to waiting for him to grovel at her feet.

"If you're in the slightest bit in control of your functions right now, you will indulge your sense of self-preservation and get out of my way." He growled menacingly to the unfortunate specimen blocking his path. The specimen in question gasped and hurried to comply, beating back the crowd in an effort to create space between them. Once he was clear of the throng of reporters, he turned and faced them with a charming smile. "The Zabini family greatly appreciates your respect for our privacy during this time. And trust me when I say, we will take note of those who don't." Blaise topped off the thinly veiled threat with an ominous smirk, and promptly Disapparated.

* * *

Ginny was soaking languidly in the tub, trying to convince herself that it didn't matter if she reeked of six different species of flowers after this. She had perhaps gone slightly overboard with the bottled bath fragrances, but it was the type of luxury she'd never let herself spend money on.

Just as she was about to get out of the tub to avoid falling asleep in it, a popping sound behind her made her freeze.

"Miss Clara, hello Miss Clara! My name is Binky, Binky is so sorry she did not come to help you in the bath, Binky thought you were sleeping still. Would Miss like some lunch? Or shall Binky fetch Mistress Zabini? She is in the gardens, but Binky knows she would like to see Miss Clara when she wakes up!" The little house elf appearing on the bathroom floor spouted enthusiastically.

"Uhhm. H-hello." Stammered Ginny, taken aback. The only house elves she had been around before were the ones in the Hogwarts kitchens, and aside from Hermione's passionate speeches regarding her S.P.E.W. campaign she hadn't been on the receiving end of any expected code of conduct regarding them. Thus, she wasn't sure if she should be trying to cover up her naked body right now, or if that was entirely irrelevant. She took the middle ground, surreptitiously sinking lower into the tub as she spoke. "Nice to meet you Binky. I'd like to go meet your Mistress in the gardens after my bath, if that's okay. Maybe you could come back in half an hour and show me the way?"

"Yes of course Miss, Binky will be back in half an hour exactly!" she declared, thrusting out her chest proudly. Ginny held back a smile as she did so, and any apprehension she had about the house elf's intrusion during her bath vanished. As Binky disappeared once more, Ginny resumed trying to get out of the huge tub, slightly shocked at how much of an effort it proved to be. She had always been stubborn, and this level of helplessness was simply inexcusable. Despite her fatigue, she managed to towel herself dry and select one of the more simple-looking dresses from the wardrobe to wear to the garden. By the time she was ready, the excitable house elf had appeared once more, and eagerly led Ginny to the gardens, skipping all the while.

Leonora was seated on the patio scrutinizing a piece of paper, and there was a chair pulled out for Ginny. Tea and small, delicate finger sandwiches had been brought out, which Binky proceeded to laden her with.

"Thank you Binky, but I'm sure Ginevra would prefer to select her own sandwiches." Leonora smiled, her eyes crinkling with mirth as she took in the little creature's vigorous attempt at nourishing the sickly girl. Setting down her paperwork with a last exasperated glance at it, she motioned for Ginny to eat. "Please, go ahead. I'm not sure how hungry you are, but it's important that you try your best. You need to gain your strength back. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, thank you." Ginny replied modestly, not sure what to make of this situation now that she was in it. Another heartrending conversation wasn't exactly at the top of her list just then, but she didn't know what else to say, and thus settled for taking a bite out of the closest sandwich.

"What are you working on?" she managed to ask after her third bite.

"Oh, it's just a list of tasks I need to complete before our annual summer party next week." Leonora replied, glancing at the paper with distaste. "It's a family tradition, but it's an endless amount of work, the result of which will inevitably be scrutinized from every angle by my lovely guests. Having no patience for that sort of thing, I need everything to be perfect so there's nothing to criticize. Speaking of which, this disaster of a garden needs immediate work."

Ginny giggled softly, glancing at the tacky, expensive-looking flamingoes stationed periodically around the expansive garden, overshadowing the natural beauty of the place. It was true, she hadn't expected the Zabini's decorations of choice to be quite so gaudy – they usually exhibited understated elegance.

"Yes, don't even get me started on those awful bird displays." Leonora remarked drily. "The landscaper was highly recommended, but considering the source of recommendation I shouldn't be so surprised. Alaina Greengrass is probably thoroughly pleased with herself right now."

"I didn't realize there was so much maliciousness between the old families. If they just want to embarrass you, why do you associate with them?" Ginny was surprised. She knew the exclusive pureblood elite could be vicious, but she hadn't dreamed they would turn on each other.

"Yes, well, I suppose the nature of our relationships have always been slightly competitive, as so much rides on status in these circles. But the rise of Voldemort only encouraged it, as he didn't want any of the families displaying loyalty towards each other. It was easier to isolate and threaten them if they had no one to call on for help. The Zabini's have always attempted to keep this behavior to a minimum, and those that engage in it at an arms length. But that doesn't mean those in our social circle feel the same way. The Malfoy's and the Parkinson's are our close friends, but most of the other families have hidden agendas."

The surprise grew on Ginny's face, at the mention of these two family names. She raised a questioning eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"Lucius Malfoy is an exception of course. We were quite relieved when he was sentenced to Azkaban. He was a perfect example of the Dark Lord's power; I have never seen anyone corrupted so quickly. But let us not speak more of that now; it is too heavy a subject for afternoon tea. Rather, suggest to me how I can fix this landscaping mess!" Leonora gestured emphatically, noting with satisfaction that Ginny had eaten two of the small sandwiches already.

Filing the subject of the Zabini family ties away for later consideration, Ginny immersed herself in her surroundings. The garden really was quite beautiful, leaning heavily towards a minimalist style, awful landscaping crisis aside. Tall stone walls surrounded the place, as they did most other mansions, except the Zabini's walls were covered with vines using the stones as support to grow ever upwards. A small lake could be seen in the distance, barely visible behind a ring of ancient oak trees that lined the horizon. The garden was vast, stretching further than could be seen with the immediate eye.

"What is the theme of the party?" Ginny inquired, absently taking in the unfortunately preened bushes.

"We've always tried to steer clear of theme parties, as the pressure of having to come up with a new one each time makes it unbearable. Our parties are elegant and usually semi-formal, with drinks and appetizers circulating constantly. People tend to walk around in order to socialize. Everyone arrives an hour or so before sunset and we watch the sun go down together, after which people drift off into little groups."

"Alright then. Well, it's difficult to do anything about the shape of the bushes now, but I think I have a few ideas. If you carry forth the concept of the sunset, and the interplay between light and darkness, why don't we line the footpaths with candles spelled not to burn anything? Then we can have paper lamps with candles inside – the muggle ones that drift off into the air due to the heat produced – suspended over the lake. Place Fireflowers in the bushes, that way they'll distract from the shape of them during the day, and glow softly at night. Oh, and remove the flamingoes of course." Ginny smiled shyly, not sure if her idea displayed the kind of sophistication Leonora was looking for.

"Wonderful! That's exactly what we'll do. The Greengrasses can plaster on their fake smiles all evening, because they won't find anything worth scoffing at." The older witch enthused. "Speaking of which, I hope you'll feel up for attending the party. On the other hand, it might be a bit much for you; you'll be overwhelmed with attention. Maybe we should wait and see how you feel when it comes down to it."

Ginny winced perceptibly. "That might be best, I don't want to rush into anything I'm not ready for. If I could make the decision next week, that would be preferable." She frowned. Not only did she have to meet a bunch of backstabbing strangers, the majority of which she had specifically spent her life trying to avoid, she hadn't met Blaise yet either. Well, they might have exchanged a few brief words in school, she wasn't sure, but being related to him surely warranted an entirely different sort of introduction. "Leonora, I haven't seen Blaise yet. He does live here, right?"

"Of course, you just missed him! He left for Diagon Alley shortly before you woke, but he should be back relatively soon. I know you two will get along, and there's no need to be nervous about it." Leonora said, reading the worry in the younger girl's face. "I can imagine this must be a weird situation for you both, but there's no need to feel obligated to strengthen your relationship, it will happen naturally. You'll see." She reached forward towards Ginny's hand resting on the table, and squeezed it reassuringly. The girl's shoulders relaxed discernibly. They sat for a while in companionable silence, lost in their own thoughts. As Ginny's head began to nod off to the side, Leonora sent her off to bed.


End file.
